Resurgence
by Amitabh
Summary: What happens when the home planet is lost- but the sophisticated weapon of war remains, isolated from the world? WARNING: Some game mechanics are ignored for the sake of the story.
1. Contact Lost

_6th_ _Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calender  
_

The Argonev starbase upon the rim of the wormhole was a magnificent sight; it stood watch over the brightly shining spatial distortion, stationary. Around it flew a large fleet; a magnificent mass of thirty Kodiaks, held up by ninety Cobalts- cannon fodder. Two Marza Dreadnoughts stood watch over them; the Contrition, captained by the venerable Captain Rea, and the Reprobation, watched over by the relatively new Captain Aros. It was a rush force; the Raloz Heavy Constructor that built it was almost destroyed by the time it reached the wormhole, beset upon by Advent foes that controlled all of the planets reaching down towards it.

The portion of the Advent that had decided to take root in this solar system, however, hadn't considered that they would make it. Not a single ship stood guard at the true gates to the western section of the solar system, where no phase lanes reached. Rushing through, the Raloz set upon it's task with a fury, it's guardians watching over it without fail, ready to destroy any 'Children of the Unity' that wandered into the extermination zone.

Unbeknownst to them, the particular sect of the Advent they were dealing with didn't take too kindly to wormholes. Whatever ability they had that allowed them to do those apparently magical deeds had mutated in this subsection, forcing them not to go through these wormholes or simply die, their minds ripped apart by the forces, the ship itself disintegrating without it's captain. They needn't have had any fear of the Advent.

But none of that was on the mind of Marshal Arkas as he stood within the command center of the Novyinadezha, nor could he have known about this chapter of the Advent's aversion. He looked upon the status screen with an increasingly nervous disposition, continuously itching. He watched, forehead beading with sweat, as the Advent came in waves upon Argos. His home. The view was coming from one of the probes above the eliptical plane; he watched as the Novyirodina smashed one Progenitor, moments before turning a Revelation into debris. The demise of the final capital ship, another Revelation, came soon afterwards.

The Novyirodina itself wasn't fairing well, however; the displays showed that it's armor was at around twenty units, a far cry from it's normal twelve thousand five hundred, and several of it's solar capacitator arrays had been simply blown off.

But Arkas was relieved. The station still hadn't been destroyed. The repair crews were breathtakingly efficient, fixing up the station almost to half armor within about ten minutes. The shields simply popped back into life and started regenerating at an even faster rate.

But ten minutes was all that it had. Another fleet came at it in due course; the Advent had the might of twenty planets, and their home colony was just bordering Argos. At least a hundred ships rushed towards the Novyrodina at once; at the head of the mighty force were yet another two Relevations and a Progenitor- they seemed to enjoy this combination. The starbase destroyed many of the cannon fodder, but soon it was utterly overwhelmed by the fury of the fleet's lasers as blue meshed into red, the Novyrodina beginning to decompress; three of the crew compartments were blown open as one of the beam emitters melted.

Finally, the fission reactor was decompressed, and the entire thing disappeared in a flash of orange.

Arkas gritted his teeth. There were no ships; they had all been sent on this mad voyage. No hope. He prayed feverently for a miracle.

It didn't happen.

The Relevations that destroyed the Novyirodina turned their attention to the planet, opening fire. Plumes of fire sprung forth from the surface of the planet as thousands of innocent men and women died under the sustained, remorseless fire of the Advent Battlecruisers. The Arstutanovs that reached past the atmosphere crumpled and fell like so much paper.

On Earth, both the Grand Commander of the Trader Emergency Coalition and the Head Oligarch of the Trader Order received a notice.

"Contact with one of our colonies has been lost."

Neither bothered reading it.


	2. Bodies and Minerals

_Marshal Arkas' Log_

_Upon the Novyinadezha_

_6th Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calender_

The probe's vision winked out as the last bit of infrastructure was destroyed. The probe was interconnected with the structures; when they were wiped out, I could see no more of Argos.

My mother was upon Argos. I wonder where she is now. Those Advent bastards probably murdered her along with the rest.

The wormhole calculations stopped flowing in as well. The long-range phase lane stabilizers simply stopped working, the supply of information by the laboratory sensors cut by the destruction of the laboratories.

Our frigate builders hardly work.

We are stuck with only a huge graveyard of ships for company in this godforsaken sector of a system. We have a steady supply of metal and crystal; money now no longer has value, as I have decreed. Colonyhead Aurelius, as far as I can gather, is probably dead. I am the only authority now, and a normal economy will only hurt us.

The bridge is still empty. No one has come out of their quarters; I'm all alone, with a view of the beautiful wormhole before me.

The view does not help. I know that at any time, those _freaks _might come out and kill us all. I am surrounded by a huge fleet, but what comfort does it provide me? We cannot replace our ships. Kodiak, along with the rest of the companies that provided us our ship designs, demanded enforced copyright. Now that the labs that provided the design keys are gone, what of me?

The only companies that didn't demand enforced copyrights were Protev, Cobalt and Arcnova. They are part of the Trade Order Comission for Basic Colony Supplies; however, 'basic' is an understatement. They will provide little help when a fleet of Advent battleships come.

I do not know what to do. For now I will sleep and ponder the situation I am in.

_Marshal Arkas' Log_

_Upon the Novyinadezha_

_7th Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calender_

It is obvious to me what must be done. The Advent bastard-freaks haven't killed us yet.

It is time to set up shop here; I will dictate the set-up of our infrastructure. I have ordered the production of a large amount of Protev colony frigates; we will seize the extractors in this area without a problem.

I'm more worried, however, of whether they will be intact.

_Marshal Arkas' Log_

_Upon the Novyinadezha_

_10th Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calender_

It appears that the phase lane pattern of this sector is three 'hooks' of space debris, according to the scans. We might find something interesting if we follow the phase lanes.

Hopefully something worth finding.

Speaking of the extractors, the Trader Order is amazing in it's propensity for posterity. Our extractors in this graveyard still exist to this day, though ravaged by Vasari lasers. The basic design is sturdy; we have taken occupation of all of them. They're bolted a bit by micrometeorites, but pristine. Elegant.

Just beautiful.

_Corporal Marcus' Log_

_Upon TO Extractor Argara-812X_

_10th Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calender_

Bodies. Perfectly preserved. Everywhere, just floating freely. I've databased twenty of the workers; if the estimation of time period is correct- the 2120s- there are exactly forty more, as per the usual arrangement of the 2120 model extractors.

The corpses suffer from horrifying conditions; there is Vasari laser fire, there is decompression, there is the poor soul that has been incinerated entirely but for his personnel identification tag. The body collector will come soon, and put the bodies into the Phase Space repository of the Novyinadezha.

I hope this is over soon. I heard the other two extractors were automated.

I always draw the short stick, for some reason.

Just beautiful.


	3. Unwarranted Hostility

_Marshal Arkas' Log_

_Upon the Novyinadezha_

_12th Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calendar_

Discovery; not a very pleasant one. Five Vasari cruisers. They, in most cases, should have gone down easily after our little forwards team descended upon them; after all, they _were_ simply Skavoras Enforcers.

Incorrect. We sent five Kodiaks and ten Cobalts to quash them after they smashed our Protev.

There were no Cobalts, and only three Kodiaks left after the battle. The ship cameras did not decieve me, nor did the status report.

There was no wreckage; they seem to have disintegrated utterly.

I must consult with the commander of Strike Group Epsilon as soon as possible. He will be returning tomorrow. In the meanwhile, beam weapons and improved armor and shielding are going to be installed.

_Commander Raphian's Log_

_Upon the Novyinadezha_

_20th Decavember ADW 359, Teslan Calendar_

I cannot make up my mind of whether Marshal is crazy or Vasari are ridiculous. Today we fight Vasari, barely make it; it is no sense. The displays said they are Vasari Skavoras Enforcers, but they use laser weapons we put on Kols. Hull strength a little bit less, but what is use? They simply shoot and kill my best men. Ten Cobalts wasted for no reason- best TEC cruiser Kodiak simply explode in first ten minute, another in seven minute!

Marshal says that no more Kodiaks can be made. This is terrible. What we do now? When the place the Vasari come from is found, what then? We all die?

If their Skavoras so powerful, what if there is capital ship nearby?

Now I hear knocking on my door. Marshal Arkas. Strange- since when did a Marshal talk to Commanders?

I sign off.

May Tesla live eternal through his genius.

_Marshal Arkas' Log_

_Upon the Novyinadezha_

_13th Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calendar_

I have just spoken with StrikeCOM Raphian. He seemed shaken; I can tell why. The Vasari here seem to have had time to settle down. Their technological superiority cannot be underestimated, but I feel that we can defeat them- if we can lure them to our Argonev. No matter how powerful a fleet is, it can never stand up to an Argonev.

At least, I hope.

For all I know, they have twelve super-advanced capital ships with hundred-year-old crews. Perhaps their home guard are made of ships that have the hull strength of the most advanced pirates and the shields of a tenth-stage refit Kol.

It is no use contemplating. Arcnovae have been dispached.

We will rat them out if we must.

Production has been started on more Cobalts. We will have a total of one hundred in another week.

The civilians are getting restless, and I think that an uprising might be brewing- no fault of mine. Perhaps we should expand the station if we are going to live here forever; this battlestation will not cater to our needs for a very long time without some facilities. Especially since there is no more phasenet access.

There is more focus now, however, on stamping out the Vasari menace in this area. _Then_ we can focus upon our final goal.

I hope that I will last that long. I don't want to have to put the ensuing rebellion down with knockout gas.

Or nitrogen _asphyxiation._


	4. Necessary Casualties

_Commander Qismat's LALog_

_Upon the Arcnova_

_13th Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calendar_

_Phase lane stability null, two jumps left. Ship relatively stationary._

_Brief mass and energy record following; following Simple Hierarchy 9:_

_individual volume-mass-/-proximity:_

_29 gargantuan powered objects, unknown configuration, relatively stationary_

_488 massive, apparently structural configuration, relatively stationary_

_3 massive powered objects, unknown configuration, relatively stationary_

_6 massive powered objects, unknown configuration, relatively stationary_

_9 penultimassive unknown ships, closest match: Titan, Vasari, hypothesized, relatively stationary_

_7 unknown extremely large capital ships, closest match: Carrier, Vasari, relatively stationary_

_7 unknown extremely large capital ships, closest match: Battleship, Vasari, relatively stationary_

_7 unknown extremely large capital ships, closest match: Battlecruiser, Vasari, relatively stationary_

_7 unknown extremely large capital ships, closest match: Migrator, Vasari, relatively stationary_

_230 unknown heavy-combat size ships, possibly upgraded Vasari_

_[-39 further object groups, truncated to proximity-]_

_288 unknown fighters, avg. 2982 km approx. nearest 2842 km, **closing**_

_288 unknown bombers, avg. 2928 km approx. nearest 2910 km, **closing**_

Oh shit. I believe we have a problem. I see fighters. Requesting permission to disengage and return. Two thousand eight hundred kilometres now. Requesting nonexercise of Executive Order 83-53 powers and immediate retreat. Two thousand seven hundred kilometres. Readying phase capacitors and requesting immediate authorization.

_Calm down, ReconCOM. Your scanners are still analyzing the enemy._

Two thousand six hundred kilometres. Respectfully, sir, this is bullshit. Requesting nonexercise of Executive Order 83-53. Two thousand five hundred kilometres. I am going to die if I don't leave. Requesting nonexercise of- _oh my God!_

* * *

_Modern Spaceflight: A Practical Introduction, Third Edition_

_Chapter 7: Plasmaic, magnetic, photonic and other methods of shielding_

_page 494a_

In most modern shielding systems, concussive force is inperceptible; most leaks through shields that are not overwhelmingly concussive will usually be absorbed by a ship's armour entirely. All damage that exceeds the rated shield capacity will usually be absorbed immediately. The crew will usually be unaware of shield damage unless they are immediately alerted by the ship, and thus modern spacefaring law prohibits deactivation of shield alert mechanisms.

* * *

_Shield to 0 units! Wingman 3 and 7 four and six destroyed. Two escape pods, origin Wingman 3. No other survivors pods destroyed._

I'm out, I'm out, I'm out. Calculate phase stability now.

_Denied._

What?

_Executive Order 83-53, par.3: provisions preventing defection invoked._

I'm going to die, aren't I?

* * *

_Scan complete._

Marshal Arkas watched as the external designs of the Vasari ships came up on the screen. He'd have to send those to the engineers. He hadn't managed to lure anyone out, and he realized now he really shouldn't- they didn't even get to their destination- but every great man snatches victory from defeat's open jaws.

And ten Arcovae weren't a very big deal. He'd arrange for the Press Secretary to get his secretary ghostwrite some condolences in place of Commodore Aranas. And, of course, the man himself would give a damn good speech for the comscreens. Maybe it'd even raise morale.

He couldn't help worrying, of course: what if the Vasari were sending a little strike force their way?

Postscript: You're probably imagining a cool female voice reading out those words, and wondering why he hadn't been destroyed in the time it took to speak. The actual "shield to zero units dialouge" would sound like this, shouted by a man with a Russian accent extremely fast:

_Shzyet! Mantei mansept nicht. Mansei mansex nicht. Erpaspahdin, benmantei. Nlinenyn syvh nahn. Paspah nicht._

Which would be admirably foreign but not very comprehensible.


	5. Neither Prevarication Nor Calumniation

_TEC Colonial Government: A Layman's Introduction_

_by Chengyu Argonev_

_Chapter One: Zuigao Zhengfu_

_Meetings, by Former Marshal Andhra Tadaruwa_

Wenti: _We are told that TEC colonial government is exceedingly efficient, and in a constant state of emergency; from what I know about Inner State government, doesn't this make the conferences of high-level officers irrelevant? Doesn't it make the conferences, for lack of a better word, very easy to conduct?_

In an emergency military government, you ask- wouldn't the meetings be as simple as a man barking out orders?

No. The meetings have never been easy- especially not emergency conferences. Every single commodore, even in peacetime, argues mercilessly for his pet theories and his demands. The Marshal can simply pull rank and cart them out, but that would be political suicide, akin to using your statutory immunity to kill a small child. "**MARSHAL TADARUWA **SUBVERTS PROCEDURE IN FAVOUR OF **UNILATERAL FIAT**" would the headlines of every single local newspaper be, for the story is too big to suppress, and Streissand's myocardia would infarcate with the effort. And you can be sure that the name and the sinful (though legal) act will be set in bold type; and the commodores will likely launch a (similarly legal) munity, pressing for a plebiscite and refusing to move their forces.

So, walking into a room of angry and (though they will not admit it) scared men- many of whom have personally killed hundreds of people and most of whom have ordered the deaths of millions- and trying to argue reason and fact and psychohistory and tactics and technology isn't simply 'not easy'. In an emergency, this increases triplefold, with every single commodore thinking of how to save themselves and their families and their fleets and making sure no good crisis goes wasted, trying to use the situation to gain prestige and hopefully rank.

It is a gallows with the hangman of exasperation sticking the noose under your career's neck, a giant switch labelled "**UNILATERAL FIAT**" presented tantalizingly like a particularly obvious political cartoon.

So no, it is not easy.

* * *

_First Meeting of the Emergency Council in Isolation_

_14th Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calendar_

_Full commodore corps in attendance_

Marshal Arkas enters.

Immediately comes an enraged voice from the corner: Commodore Chang. _"You are a fool, Arkas, and you will get us all murdered- no, not murdered, killed in self-defence. You order an attack on vastly superior forces without indication of ill intent, and then you send a fleet of scouts into their territory and provoke them into attacking them. Have you no shame, have you no restraint?"_ He is visibly agitated- and in the palm of his hand, if anyone were to look, is a picture of his children.

He tries to pacify them, raising his hands up to chest level, palms outwards. It takes all of his restraint not to violate the unwritten laws of the meetings and interrupt the_ sorry little bastard_. "The Vasari are naturally enemies of ours. Not opening fire would be folly, and assuming too much of them."

Another voice counters- comparatively level-headed. The accent Synfaelan, a hint of Terran- Commodore Tyanalas. "With all due respect, Sir, do you forget why they attack, Marshal Arkas? They do it for safety, and they have found safety here- up to the point where we intruded into their space and attempted to destroy one of their ships. They have obviously innovated, found technological superiority, capitalized on it; their society has obviously changed to facilitate their safety. They are no longer scared. We might now all die."

_ Pfft. You'd gladly genocide them if given the chance, you selfish coward. Have you forgotten Synyeas? _the Marshal thought, as he began speaking. "We have no way of ensuring their non-hostility."

"Hostility?" he responded, his hands grabbing each other- sweaty. "Perhaps you should have waited until they actually began bombarding us before you smashed human beings against the rocks."

_"They murdered every single miner in the extractors!"_

"_And they didn't occupy them_, Marshal! If that isn't an indicator of respect, I do not know what is! It's a masoleum! A respectful tomb, for all we know! How much do we even know about Vasari custom?"

"It is goddamned _dead bodies' freakshow!_" His Amalgamate began to slip as he got aggravated, "Not is _masoleum_ for _poor waighchasii! _I ask you, I ask you: did they immediately feel regret? Immediately break down and cry once they had killed? If their custom when not they were respectful of human life was to leave their death-placing touched, then why they not clear the bodies first? Why did they not _rape_ the corpses first? Now what we must do is find out how to kill them all, before they do the same to us!" as he finished shouting, he noticed the entire table staring at him.

He swallowed the accumulated debris of his verbal rampage, straightened his tie and wiped the copious sweat from his brow. "I apologize for my loss of composure, gentlemen. Please voice your concerns."

"With all respect due to your station, _Sir_," said Commodore Qismat, "Perhaps you are not in the best position to make decisions." He pulled at his collar, obviously somewhat uneasy with the man's outburst. One of his relatives had been killed in the Marshal's fool plan; it took all of his restraint not to assault a superior officer.

Commodore Aranas began to speak in the most diplomatic speech of his native Ariyian- in practice, the highest register of Amalgamate. "Under the great auspices of the unanimous vote antecongressional, dictum est within these hallowed halls: that henceforth all attempts at interaction accorded to the Vasari fide bona erit, with neither prevarication nor calumniation, seeking not provocation..."

That was when Arkas turned and walked out, wishing to hear no more.

* * *

_Marhsal Arkas' Log_

_Upon the Novyinadezha_

_13th Decavember 2302, Gregorian Calendar_

I knew it. They're rebelling. Mutinying, challenging my authority beyond acceptable bounds, attempting to overrule me. There is nothing I can do. I have no idea what they're going to do and I do not care in the slightest. They may all be torn asunder by lasers and phase missiles and everything on the elliptical plane of the galaxy for all I care.

The populace has calmed ever since the speech. The engineers are continuing their upgrades. Under my control, this station will prosper. I ought to space them all. But that is impractical. No, I still control the station, if not directly the fleet- cowardly lot. The Vasari will crumble if I have anything to say about it. I am sending orders to the researchers, that bunch of over-qualified trainers and businessmen.

It is time to do something useful with them for once.

* * *

Postscript: In reality, Amalgamate would sound like some bizarre mixture of English, Chinese, Russian phonetics, German agglutination and various other languages. Ariyian is just like Amalgamate, but with more Chinese and English, the two classical languages of my interpretation of the universe. I'm capturing the awkwardness of speech that comes with it.


End file.
